


Lawyer Barr

by SaltAndBurn (AlyssiaInWonderland)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Annoyed Sam Winchester, Arrested Dean Winchester, Dean gets to be obnoxious, Don’t copy to another site, Episode: s01e03 Dead in the Water, Flirty Dean Winchester, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Humor, Lawyer Lucas Barr, Sweet Dean Winchester, and Lucas is his lawyer, and Sam gets to save his ass, basically Dean gets arrested, so Lucas is all grown up but it's not really fitting into canon neatly, this takes place in a weird spot in canon with some strange time stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 19:50:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17392616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlyssiaInWonderland/pseuds/SaltAndBurn
Summary: Another day, another hunt, another mistaken arrest.It’s practically getting to be a habit.He can just picture Sammy’s bitch-face at his getting caught.***Dean's got arrested again, and his lawyer seems...weirdly familiar? Or, the one where Dean meets a grown up Lucas and they get a chance to bond :)





	Lawyer Barr

Another day, another hunt, another mistaken arrest.

It’s practically getting to be a habit.

He can just picture Sammy’s bitch-face at his getting caught.

In his defence, it had been a choice between saving the victim or going after the creepy mother that had gouged at the man’s side. He’d chosen to stay with the civilian to stop the bleeding.

Unfortunately, this meant he was found standing over a half-dead man who hadn’t seen jack shit of the fight, holding a silver knife.

Funnily enough, the police didn’t stop to consider that he might be the good samaritan in all this.

Having been a wanted man multiple times didn’t help much, either.

God, Sammy’s gonna flip when he finds out.

* * *

He’s so used to stonewalling the police he could do it in his sleep. A cocky grin here, a witty quip there, and he has the most patient of them huffing in frustration. He’s always had a knack for getting under peoples’ skin. Making them want to break his.

“You want your phone-call?” The officer babysitting him is young, and Dean notices he’s got a celtic cross on a chain around his neck. He grins.   
  
“Why? Want my number?” He winks, makes eye contact and licks his lips, slowly. “‘Cause I gotta tell you, sweetheart, I charge extra for virgins.”

The officer leaps out of his chair like a spider just crawled onto it. Dean laughs, loud and obnoxious.

“I’m not-you’re-” He’s blushing, and he’s not that unattractive, if Dean’s being honest, but he’s far too young for his tastes.

“Aw look, you’re so cute when you’re flustered.” Dean leans back in his chair, as comfortably as he can with his wrists cuffed together. “I’ll take that phone-call now, thanks.”

The officer nods, and beats a hasty retreat out of the room.

Dean chuckles to himself. He really shouldn’t do this; but it’s just too easy to rile up the repressed ones. Maybe it takes one to know one, but it doesn’t remove any of the fun.

He slips the cuffs, easily, using the paperclip wrapped around his shirt button, and leaves them lying innocuously on the table. He’s just stood up to head out when he hears footsteps, so he flops right back into his chair and swings his boots onto the table.

“You get two minutes onl- what the hell?” The officer eyes him like he’s some kind of predator. The poor kid looks terrified, his wide eyes reminding Dean of a gazelle, or a deer. “Put your hands on the table and get your feet on the floor!” He’s taken out his taser, which is tiresome. Dean knows just how much those bitches sting.

He swings his feet to the ground and rests his wrists on the table, neatly next to each other.

“Easy, man. You’re in control here.” He tries to make it sound like sweet-talk, and judging by the rising flush he’s succeeded. “Be gentle with me, it’s my first time.”   
  
“Hardly.” The officer snorts, snatches up the cuffs from the table. He looks immediately horrified by his gut response, and Dean grins, not even having to fake it.

“Well, look at you. You’re a right spitfire, ain’t you? Maybe I pegged you wrong, the first time around. Comebacks, handcuffs? Kinky.” Dean smirks as the officer snicks the cuffs around his wrists again and glares at him. His pissy expression forcibly reminds him of Sammy, though, and that puts a firm stop on his flirting. Shame; he’d just gotten to the good part.

“Still want that phone-call, or was it just an excuse to get some alone time?” The officer asks him, coldly.

“I’d love that call, man. Could you dial for me? I’m a little tied up at the moment.” Dean’s instinct to be aggravating has to have some kind of outlet, and if it’s not going to be flirting then it’s got to be puns. Hey, this way at least they both suffer.

The officer rolls his eyes, and puts the phone within reach. Dean picks it up and dials under his watchful, suspicious gaze.

“Heya, Stanford.” Dean meets the officer’s raised eyebrow with a steady, resolute gaze, and the kid looks away first.

“Where the hell are you?” Sam’s already figured it’s a good plan to not use his real name, bless him and his paranoid code-words.

“Well, see, I got into a spot of bother, and it seems Gordon ain’t so keen on Batman running his vigilante hero act in this Gotham.” Dean’s unable to keep the enthusiasm out of his voice.

“I cannot believe you just - no, of course I can. Where the hell are you? And does this mean you cast me as Alfred or Robin, because let me tell you, either one-”   
  
“Ain’t the point, so can it. I’m being held at the-” Dean looks over to the officer, who supplies the address. “Pine Lodge Police Station.” He finishes.

“Right. Just - sit tight, man. And get a fucking lawyer. I’m over three hours away.” Sam sounds pissed, because he was against them splitting up for this hunt, for pretty much this exact reason. Well, that and dozens of others that all culminated in some kind of disastrous end for the pair of them.

“Gotcha. Wilco. If you do anything, I repeat, anything, to screw up my Baby just ‘cause you’re trying to get here faster, I will put Nair in all your shampoo again.” Dean warns, unable to resist. He knows he’s playing some of his hand, but if Sam’s not gonna arrive for at least three more hours, he’s got to find some way to endear himself to his arresting officers. 

The reluctant smile on the kid’s face tells him he’s got off to a good start.

“How about we agree that I’m a good driver, and we both keep our hair.” Dean can practically feel Sam’s eye-roll. “And remember, dude. Get a lawyer. You’re entitled to a public defender. And try not to piss everyone off before I arrive?”

“You know me, man. I’m a real charmer.” Dean hangs up, and tries a softer, less intense grin on the kid.

“Brothers, huh?” The officer picks up the phone, moves towards the door as Dean nods in agreement.

“Yep. You got an older brother, kid?” Dean asks. He’s surprised that he’s almost actually curious about it.

“Younger, actually. And since I know how whiny they can get - and your rights - I’m just going to lock you in and get you your lawyer.” He pauses in the doorframe. “And try not to pick your cuffs again. This place is packed with people, don’t waste your energy.”

Dean shrugs. “Thanks. I think I might like you if you hadn’t arrested me.”   
  
“I might have liked you if you hadn’t been a jerk.” The officer retorts, a smile playing across his features. “And for the record - I’m bi. But you’re  _ so _ not my type.”

“Hey! I’m  _ everyone’s _ type!” Dean yells after him, but the door’s clicked shut, and his heart isn’t in it. The kid is just too, well, kid-like. He kind of hates how much he likes the boy.

* * *

“Christ,” Dean mutters. “Either I’m getting old, or this entire damn station is full of babies.”

“Well, this baby has been assigned to your case by the public defender’s office. At short notice. Apparently he volunteered.” The officer from before - Dean still hasn’t learned the kid’s name - explains.

The lawyer, who looks to be practically a teenager, says nothing, but nods at the officer and takes his seat, dutifully unpacking until the officer heads out of the room.

His suit is well pressed, and his presentation reeks of a maternal influence in the neat combing of his hair, his jacket coming just a little too far over his wrists to not have been bought big for a growing man. His tie is a little too colourful to be his choice, judging by how plain the rest of his stationary is, but it’s not fashionable enough to be from a partner. He’s silent, watching Dean with a mild interest that is unfairly disconcerting.

“The hell’s an intern doing, volunteering for this?” Dean hazards a guess, and the lawyer’s lips tighten, possibly in annoyance, or disappointment, though he’s not sure why he might be disappointed by such an obvious question.

“My name is Mr. Barr. I have been assigned to your case, as it is pertinent to my general area of expertise.” This lawyer might be young, but he knows how to hold a poker face like the best of them. It doesn’t stop Dean from cracking up, though.

“Mr.  _ Barr _ ? You’ve gotta be shitting me!”

“I’m afraid not.” Mr. Barr says, dryly.

“What, did you wake up one day and decide the pun was too good to waste?” Dean snickers, cheered beyond belief by the coincidence.

“Something like that.” Mr. Barr smiles, and Dean returns it, gratified to see the sliver of personality behind the lawyer’s professional mask. He quickly returns to business.

“So. I’m going to level with you, and I hope that you will then do the same with me.” Mr. Barr folds his hands together, and sits forward in his chair a little.

“I’m game, if you are, Esquire.” Dean gestures for him to go ahead.

“I have planned, since long before I started my career, to represent those who, for whatever reason, find that they are caught up in circumstances they cannot explain easily to jurors. When your identity, your name, pinged on the database search, it sent me an alert.” Mr. Barr takes a deep breath. “In short, Mr. Winchester, I represent Hunters.”   
  
“I’m sorry, you what now?” Dean stares at the lawyer, utterly floored.

“I have a database of common aliases, legal names, and likely circumstances in which a hunter might be arrested. Of course, publically, this is simply carrying on the internship project of an unknown lawyer studying at Stanford, who left behind an incomplete database nobody really understood the criteria for. The pings on the database seemed utterly random to most of the students who were given the option to pick the project back up, and the notes were cryptic at best. For someone in the know, it was easy to figure out. Your name pinged, and here I am.” Mr. Barr sat back, calmly observing Dean’s shocked expression.

“Wait, so you’re, like, some kinda pro-bono Hunter defender? And you took over the project from some other intern, who apparently had the same idea?” Dean frowns. “The hell was a Hunter’s kid doing studying law, anyhow. Ain’t like that demographic is in high supply.”

“Actually, I believe the project belonged initially to your brother.” Mr. Barr is acting like this isn’t a sledgehammer-style revelation to Dean.

“How in the  _ fuck _ do you know about my brother?” Dean’s technically not promised Sammy he won’t piss anyone off. And this lawyer, a scrap of a kid, who could hardly be the age to have met Sam at Stanford, is throwing about knowledge that he absolutely shouldn’t have.

The strange, disappointed look flickers over his face again.

“Do you really not remember?” The lawyer sounds hurt, but Dean can’t figure for the life of him why.

“I’ve got no clue what you’re talking about…” Dean trails off. Now that it’s mentioned, there  _ is _ something familiar about the young man sitting opposite him. Something about the eyes, and the way his hair falls.

“My name is Barr. Full name, Lucas Jake Barr.” He tilts his head, and he must spot the recognition in Dean’s eyes, because he grins, and it’s just as warm and bubbly an expression as Dean remembers.

“Sweet son of a-” Dean cuts himself off abruptly, because he really,  _ really _ , respects Andrea, even disregarding the sweet, chaste kiss that she’d thanked him with. It wasn’t the kind of kiss a man like him got all too often. “I can’t believe this is what you ended up doing. Last time I saw you, I kinda figured you’d be an artist.” Dean offers Lucas a gentle smile.

“I always remembered how you’d helped me - us. I decided I wanted to help too. You changed our lives; you saved our lives, even. Figured the least I could do was try and save other people like you, given the law doesn’t recognise ‘But Sir, this house was haunted’ as a valid excuse for arson.” Lucas stifles a laugh at his own example.

“That one of your recent cases, huh?” Dean asks, and pulls a face as Lucas nods. “Ouch.”

“That’s not half as bad as your case file. Man, you’ve got one hell of a rap sheet.” Lucas seems almost impressed.

“Yeah, well. Quite a lot of those were shapeshifters, you know.” Dean explains, hastily.

“Ouch.” Lucas echoes Dean’s expression from earlier, and they both grin.

“Listen, Lucas. This is great and all - seriously, don’t get me wrong, what you’re doing is awesome, straight up rocks. But me and Sammy, we like to stay firmly off the grid. And like you said - I got quite a rap sheet under my belt. And that’s only the parts that survived someone wiping the damn things.”

“I thought you’d say that. But while you’re meeting with your lawyer, they can’t take you to a mirrored room and interrogate you. So when is your brother arriving, and what’s the plan?” Lucas still seems so unruffled by the situation. He’s grinned a bit, regained some kind of animation, but something about him just fundamentally views this as a totally normal scenario.

“This is freaky, man.” Dean says. He can’t keep himself from scanning Lucas, from his Sammy-long ginger hair to his slightly ink-smudged cuffs. “Last time I saw you, you were-” Dean bites back what he was going to say, because even he can tell casually mentioning past mutism was probably too blunt.

“Knee high to a grasshopper? Drawing all the time? Barely talking? Yeah. Guess I’ve changed a lot. You haven’t really, not that I remember. Well. You’re a lot shorter.” Lucas smiled again. Dean could see the laugh of the kid who enthusiastically repeated ‘Zeppelin rules!’ after him.

“Nah, I ain’t shorter, you just grew. Squirt.” Dean has to forcibly resist the urge to reach out and ruffle his hair.

“I still draw, by the way. Mostly just for me, but it’s therapeutic. Lots of landscapes, but monsters and people too.” He slides a notebook across the table. “Not many lakes though. Got that out of my system way back.” A shadow of discomfort flickers over Lucas’ expression, but Dean’s not going to call him on it. He knows that feeling all too well, and it might never be gone completely. But Lucas seems okay, seems frankly amazingly well-adjusted.

“That’s...that’s real good, man.” Dean pauses, clears his throat. “Listen, I gotta tell you, when Sammy arrives, it ain’t gonna be with bail money. I don’t want you caught up in the inevitable fraud and mayhem.” It’s both a distraction and a refocusing, which Dean is proud to have pulled off, honestly.

“That’s fine. I can time my chat with the arresting officers to whenever your brother arrives, and I’ll have an alibi.” Lucas shrugs, and it trips Dean out hard to see the tiny kid in this remarkably confident young lawyer.

“Okie-dokie.” Dean can’t help the slight bounce, he really can’t be blamed for it. Lucas is a lawyer, his brother is in the process of coming to bust him out (and hopefully not also bust him  _ up _ for getting caught), and so, as his life goes, it’s pretty damn good.

Lucas is watching him with barely-hidden amusement. It’s weird, to sit there, under scrutiny, but in a situation where he might as well just relax into temporary complacency. Doing nothing isn’t something he’s used to.

“So!” Dean breaks the silence. “How have you been? Other than, well, lawyer, studying, you know, all that nerdy crap?” He winces internally at how his words came out, but Lucas just seems even more amused. He feels a little like he’s being laughed at.

“Pretty good. My Mom works for a PI company in LA, for one thing.” Lucas looks adorably proud.

“Huh. Well that’s...unexpected.” A smile curls Dean’s lips fondly, involuntarily. “What does she do for them?”

“Mostly she helps them rescue people. Oh, and makes weapons for them. They’re a PI agency that accepts supernatural cases.” Lucas explains. 

“Like, Andrea? She’s...she works for a Hunting firm?” Dean is having a hard time picturing the sweet, almost unbearably fragile Andrea kicking the ass out of demons and other creatures. He thinks about it for a moment, and suddenly he can absolutely picture it, and his reaction is very inappropriate. “Nice.” He croaks, trying to banish the images from his mind. He’s talking to her fully grown son, for crying out loud!

“It’s pretty neat. The place is warded and everything, too. It’s not the safest job ever, but nobody’s safe from everything. She says she may as well fight the stuff that tries to kill her.” Lucas rolls his eyes, seems pretty long-suffering about that attitude. “I mean, at first she just wanted to steer clear of everywhere vaguely supernatural, but we moved to LA to get out of the countryside, and time and coincidence did the rest.”

“Anyone I might know?” Dean’s still distracted, but thankfully Lucas can’t tell.

“Sorry. Confidentiality clauses. I’m technically their lawyer.” Lucas shrugs.

“Gotcha.”

* * *

Dean and Lucas end up listening to Lucas’ i-pod. Dean started out skeptical, but he has to admit that the things are way more tolerable when they’ve got decent music on them.

He even picks up a couple of new bands - not that he’ll ever in a million years mention it to Sammy, or he’ll never hear the end of it.

By the time Sam’s due to arrive, they’ve gotten so thoroughly distracted in catching up that it feels like they’ve barely been talking for half an hour.

Lucas reluctantly gathers up some of his gear. He leaves most of his folders on the table, because it’s got to seem like he expects to pick back up again later, and the one titled ‘Project Artemis’ is carefully sifted to the top of the pile. Dean raises an eyebrow at Lucas, and he nods.

“That’s-”   
  
“Sam’s project? I’m pretty sure it is. Figured having it at the top of the pile will give Sam some warning before you give him the nth degree.” Lucas says, eyeing Dean knowingly.

“Thanks. But honestly, what I meant to say was - he called it  _ that _ ?” Dean sniggers.

“Yeah, I know.  _ Project Artemis _ . Once you know, it’s far from subtle.” Lucas visibly stifles a laugh. “Apparently appreciation of terrible jokes is a genetic trait between you two.”

“Hey! My humour is plenty good, man!” Dean mock-glares at Lucas as he moves over to the door, armed with notebook and pen.

“Sure it is, old man. Sure it is.” Lucas leaves before Dean can protest, which is probably a good thing.

* * *

Sam slips in through the door quietly, and Dean looks up. He’s already got his cuffs off, but he’s still sat in his chair.

“Hey, Dean. Get this! I think I saw the grown up version of that kid from the Lake Manitoc case talking to the officers who stayed behind!” Sam’s talking in an excited whisper, as he waits for Dean to hurry up and head out.

“Fake 911 call again, Sammy? You’re getting predictable.” Dean gets up, shaking his head sadly.

“Wait-” Sam takes in the pieces of paper on the table, finally. “You actually got a lawyer?” Sam looks so surprised it makes Dean feel somewhat offended.

“Hey! I do listen to you sometimes, you know.” Dean snaps back, then pauses. “Though technically speaking, he was assigned to me. Through, uh, that project.” He gestures to the file, and Sam’s eyes widen, takes a deep sharp breath.

“Dean, I-”   
  
“We got time for that later, Sammy. Let’s bust me out, for now, yeah?” Dean quirks and eyebrow at Sam, and he presses his lips together, nods. He looks a little annoyed, a little nervous. But resolute enough that Dean’s sure Sam’s gonna be okay with this, when they do talk about it.

“Right.”

They move out of the room in single file, Sam leading the way, and make it out of the station easily. Lucas catches Dean’s eye through the window, and he doesn’t nod, but Dean knows it’s there anyway. He gives Lucas a wave, before turning around and following Sam again, quickly, so Sam doesn’t get too snarky about it.

“So, that was the kid?” Dean’s only mildly annoyed that Sam managed to recognise him despite hardly bonding with the child.

“Yep. Lucas Barr.” Dean grins, catches the keys to the impala that Sam throws at him, and swinging himself into the driver’s seat with satisfaction. “He’s a lawyer now, Sammy. Get it? Lawyer  _ Barr _ ?” Dean strokes his fingers over the wheel gently, saying a silent greeting to his Baby.

“You’re shitting me.” Sam laughs, though he’s looking kinda shifty, like he knows what’s coming.

“That’s exactly what I said!” Dean crows, then lets himself go serious.

“He picked up his project from some abandoned, mystery database left behind by another student. At Stanford.” Dean sighs at the echoing silence from his brother. He really shouldn’t push this, and they really should be getting gone.

Dean turns to Sam, not quite ready to move on from this place. The impala has, historically, been a place where they can at least kind of talk, if not entirely bypass their struggle to communicate.

“Dude. You never told me you were working on a project to help out hunters?” He licks his lips, looks at Sam sideways, like he’s going to disappear if he asks the question too curiously.   
  
“Well, it’s not like we were speaking that much back then. And after…” Sam looks down, clears his throat. “After Jess, I just didn’t see the point, you know? No need to discuss what happened back then. It’s not like I was gonna finish it after that.” He’s got that skittish look about him, the one he gets when he’s uncomfortable with how much something still feels to him.

“I’m sorry, man.” Dean’s never sure how to handle things like this, but he does his best.

“It’s done. I’m glad Lucas picked it back up. Kinda fitting, I guess. One of the first kids we saved.” Sam finally looks up again, eyes earnest and soft as they always have been. “I mean, it’s nice. To see that some kids get to do something with their lives. Get to be lawyers, grow up like that.” The unspoken ‘like we never got to’ hangs in the air.

“Yeah. It really kinda is.”

Dean twists the key in the ignition of the impala, and thinks of Lucas, using the voice he finally found to give voices to those who had none. He thinks of Andrea, becoming the badass who helps people who are as scared as she once was. He thinks of Sammy, away at college, quietly working on making the world a better place, for all that he was alone.

He smiles, and Sammy grins back, the both of them riding the wave of elation that comes from seeing the success of some long-lost project.

For once, Sam doesn’t complain once about the Led Zeppelin blasting as they drive.

**Author's Note:**

> So honestly i'm not totally sure what this is. I hope, whatever it is, that it was fun to read!!! <3
> 
> As ever, comments and kudos feed my entire dark soul, and I will pay you in eternal gratitude and fics!
> 
> PS: yes. Andrea's new job and PI firm in LA are in fact very blatant references to Angel and the fact Amy Acker is in the show. sorry, I couldn't resist the chance! I didn't tag it because it's not really central and I didn't want to spam the Angel tag :) <3


End file.
